


something that we offer

by icarusandtheson



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusandtheson/pseuds/icarusandtheson
Summary: The warmth of Washington’s focus is almost dizzying, even when Alex’s eyes aren’t on him. Alex is already mourning the end of the meeting, when he’ll stumble back out into the cold and the absence of an empty street.He’ll find a club, maybe, or a crowded bar -- somewhere he can pull focus until it fills him up, makes him something close to warm.





	something that we offer

Alex double checks the address on his phone before stepping inside some quiet, hole-in-the-wall place he’s only ever noted in his periphery.

It’s not remotely close to what Alex was imagining when Washington asked to meet -- the version of him that gets passed around, the modern myth, would never set foot in a place that didn’t require a three-piece suit -- but by now he probably shouldn’t be surprised that Washington can hold court wherever he damn well pleases.

He’s not hard to find, tall and broad even tucked into a corner, his arm slung over the top of the booth. His rings catch the light as his fingers curls and uncurl against the worn fabric.

Even if he didn’t stand out, Alex would just have to follow the furtive glances of the other customers. If Washington notices the attention he draws -- and he honestly might not, after living with it for as long as he has -- he doesn’t react to it.

Nobody looks at Alex, and he tries not to take it personally. He can work a room nearly as well, when the competition isn’t quite so stiff. No point trying with so few people around, anyways -- he wouldn’t break even on the energy it would take to make them look, to make them keep looking until he was the only thing they saw.

Washington’s gaze is on him when Alex refocuses, his mouth tugging into a brief, warm smile. Some small, petty thing in Alex’s chest preens at the attention, and he crosses the floor without another glance at the eyes that aren’t on him.

“Alexander,” Washington says, and like he always does, Alex starts a little to hear his name, whole and alive in someone’s mouth, in Washington’s mouth.

It’s just the two syllables, usually, if anything at all -- basic etiquette tends to break down in the face of basic desire. _I want this job I want this girl I want this boy can you do it what will it cost can you do it?_

Yes, usually. Whether he wants to do it or not is another story. Want and ambition -- slippery things, hard to catch, hard to hold in your hands for more than a moment. Alex can’t be caught unless he wants to be, and he likes it that way, even if it means his name isn’t often in many mouths.

Someday, maybe, if he sticks with Washington. If Washington decides to stick with him.

“Hey,” Alex says, and he lets his mouth curl into something easy and charming. He slides into the booth; his leg brushes Washington’s under the table, a happy accident. Alex is good at making those happen, too.  

Washington pushes one of two mugs in his direction, the steam rich and thick. Something in him recoils, just for a moment -- old fear at taking a gift without knowing the consequences, a defunct wariness that he’s learning to let go of, at least here. Alex has eaten often enough on Washington’s generosity to know it’s nothing more than basic kindness.

“It’s decent,” Washington promises, as if he believes for a moment that’s the source of Alex’s hesitation. It’s a thoughtful lie, though, and Alex takes it along with the coffee.

“Thanks.” It is decent, after enough sugar, and it feels surprisingly good to have something warm in his stomach. There’s a faded menu on his side of the table, the plastic tacky to the touch. He’s vaguely aware of hunger for the first time in a while, and he glances over it with interest.       

The warmth of Washington’s focus is almost dizzying, even when Alex’s eyes aren’t on him. Alex is already mourning the end of the meeting, when he’ll stumble back out into the cold and the absence of an empty street. He’ll find a club, maybe, or a crowded bar -- somewhere he can pull focus until it fills him up, makes him something close to warm.

“Order whatever you want,” Washington says. “We’ll be here for a while.”

“Will you let me pay this time?” Alex asks drily.

Washington just laughs, the sound carrying in the relatively small space. Eyes pull in his direction, devour the brief flash of his teeth, the way his eyes catch the godawful lighting and make it beautiful, make it almost golden.

Alex feels a current run through him -- eyes on him, too, if only to see what’s made him worthy of that laugh, what it takes to earn that laugh -- but he doesn’t bother to look back.

**Author's Note:**

> *From the Dare to Write Challenge. Prompt 256: oblivion.  
> *Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos and comment if you liked it!  
> *Find me on Tumblr at [icarusandtheson](https://icarusandtheson.tumblr.com/)


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